


Sidewalk

by AvaKelly



Series: Bits and Pieces [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Meet-Cute, Poetry, art installations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 02:19:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4688786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaKelly/pseuds/AvaKelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So what if he's been inappropriately looking after a complete stranger like a mother duck. No one will have to know. Ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sidewalk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missleera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missleera/gifts).



Winter means cold wind, sleet and snow, icy rain and half frozen puddles on the sidewalks, but Bucky is determined to stand there in the longest line ever to see this _thing_. The show is a live installation, as the flyer's calling it, a winding path through a narrow corridor of light and sound. Bucky is not the artsy type, really, but since his friends had seen it, they can't stop talking about it and it's been grating on his last nerve. It's supposed to be a thought altering experience to be shared with a dear someone.

Well, Bucky's currently standing in line all alone. He's not the only one, though, but he dreads ending up with a complete stranger inside, all alone for the hour it takes to traverse the whole thing. He takes a look behind him, an older gentleman who's staring absent minded at the quickly darkening sky above the surrounding buildings. In front, however, there's a guy in a purple fluffy coat with half his face wrapped in an even purple-er scarf, if that's a word. It totally _is_ , Bucky decides. The guy keeps squealing at his phone, eyes glued to the screen, to the chagrin of the line.

Bucky pulls out his own phone just to distract himself for ten seconds, when the line shifts slightly forward. The purple abomination moves inertially with it, and he's about to step off the edge of the sidewalk and into a puddle that looks at least ankle deep. Bucky nudges him back on track before he realizes he's done it, and he withdraws his fingers from the guy's upper arm, scrambling for a plausible explanation. But the guy doesn't even register the correction, still absorbed by whatever's going on with his phone. Bucky is tempted to peek over his shoulder, but he decides against it.

It gives Bucky something to do, he convinces himself, as he keeps nudging Purple guy away from the perils of walking into the wall twice, a pole once, stepping into something too nasty to analyze, and a patch of ice. The guy never notices. Bucky is rolling his eyes at himself, when a loud "Ha!" coming from the stranger startles him. Ahead of them, a couple of heads turn and someone's already opening their mouth to complain. Bucky crosses his arms and glares from above Purple's head.

"Yeah, not today, lady," he mutters, and where did that come from.

Bucky doesn't even know this weirdo's face.

It's like the universe has him in sights tonight, because right then, Purple turns, pulling at his oversized scarf, and fuck. Bucky's breath stutters for half a moment. The guy is _smiling_ with his entire face, brilliant under the diffuse light of the street lamp. He's also staring right back at Bucky. The line shifts again, then, and Purple takes a step backward, not paying attention. Bucky's hand shoots out to push him away from the edge of the sidewalk again. And again without Bucky's input.

Purple is gaping.

Bucky entertains running, but he's so close to the door, after waiting for so long in the freakin' cold, that he doesn't have the heart to back out now. So what if he's been inappropriately looking after a complete stranger like a mother duck. No one will have to know. Ever.

"Ticket," comes grumpily, and Purple turns away.

He fumbles with his phone before digging in his pockets. The guard sighs, looking at Bucky, and Bucky shrugs. For some reason, it makes him feel like Purple's always been that one friend causing people to share commiserating looks with Bucky. It's strangely warming.

Purple finally presents his ticket and Bucky looks away. There's already a single person waiting to go in, so that means Purple's going ahead and Bucky is stuck with the gentleman behind him. Well. Life is full of people never to be seen again.

"No, I'm with him," Bucky hears, accompanied by fingertips gripping delicately at the sleeve of his coat.

Purple is looking at him, eyebrows raised, and Bucky finds himself nodding in confirmation. The gentleman gets to go in first, but it's ok. This is better, and Bucky ducks his head to hide his smile. The movement brings Purple's fingers in view, almost blue from the cold, and Bucky grips them to warm between his palms. He catches himself quickly, though, and drops Purple's hand with a grimace. He mouths 'sorry,' but the guy just smirks at him and steps closer, before sticking his hands in his own pockets.

They wait in silence, but it's not awkward, even though Purple just stands there staring mostly at the sidewalk. He is shorter, and Bucky has a view of his eyelashes as they flutter against his skin. There are really faint traces of freckles on the top of his cheeks, the kind that are visible only under the hottest summer sun. The tip of his nose and the shells of his ears are red from the cold, and Bucky has an irresistible urge to wrap himself around this guy. It's ridiculous.

The installation starts with a short and narrow corridor, dimly lit, and they follow it, shoulders bumping. It opens in a small square room, a park bench in the middle of it, and a projection on a wall, saying ' _Darkness. 5 minutes._ ' The moment they sit down, all traces of light turn off.

"I'm Clint," Purple whispers.

"Bucky," he returns just as quietly.

Silence stretches as Bucky tries to find words, stupid words, to talk to Clint. His blank mind refuses to come up with _anything_.

Clint shifts. "Are you seeing someone?"

His voice is impossibly hushed, almost inaudible. Perhaps Bucky isn't the only one unexpectedly affected.

"No," he breathes, heart beating increasingly faster.

"Wanna get dinner after this?"

His heart skips a beat, and yeah, Bucky definitely wants. "Sure," he says, hoping to sound even. This whole thing has tackled him out of nowhere.

Cold knuckles graze Bucky's and he wraps his hand around Clint's. Their fingers interlock, slotting against each other's with ease. Light comes slowly back to the room, and they follow the path forward, towards projections of summer sun, blue skies, and yellow wheat fields. The images fade to black and white soon, though, gradually replaced with poetry scattered about the walls.

"I saw you standing there with sunset on your skin," Clint reads, "and as the world subsided into a silent night, lifetimes of recollection began to shuffle in, of meeting you, forever, onto the same sidewalk."

Bucky breathes, slowly.

"I think we met before," Clint whispers, and Bucky huffs. "You think so, too," Clint looks at him them, wide smile on his face, his eyes bright under the projection light.

Bucky has been pondering the same, indeed. "Yeah," he laughs.

Clint's smile turns even more brilliant, his hand gripping Bucky's tightly.

"So what are your thoughts on coffee?" Clint asks as they make their way through the next corridor.

"It's the only thing that exists right after I wake up," Bucky answers.

"Oh good, 'cos Anna's an attention hog in the morning."

"Anna?"

"Yeah," Clint nods. "She's my coffee maker."

Bucky laughs and pulls Clint closer.

~

Winter means Clint's purple scarf, his cold fingers and red nose. Winter means spending the same night each year on the same sidewalk, looking at the sky. Winter is brilliance.

~End~

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm a dragon, hear me roar.](http://intermittently-ava.tumblr.com/)


End file.
